


The Eye Of The Hurricane

by mollymauks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, I think there's a flashback at some point because like why not?, It's all going on, M/M, Toya/Molly's life in the carnival is mentioned, but the main premise is: Molly is Sad and caleb Helps, little bit of backstory on Caleb's end that kind of snuck in there, luca back at it again with the hurt/comfort and angst blend, nonverbal!Molly, which is the main premise of ALL my shit but never mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollymauks/pseuds/mollymauks
Summary: Set the night of the Zone of Truth scene from episode 14. Molly has trouble sleeping and remains awake alone in the empty common room of the Leaky Tap, drowning in the old feeling of emptiness dragged up by the group’s interrogation. Until Caleb finds him and keeps him company.‘After a long moment, he said, “How much have you had to drink?”Molly considered the question. The answer, in his book, was set firmly between ‘far too much’ and ‘not nearly enough.’ His response to Caleb, however, was the vague semblance of a shrug.’





	The Eye Of The Hurricane

 

“Mollymauk?”

The fire in the hearth was dying.

It had been struggling to cling to whatever feeble life it had left for as long as Molly had been watching it.

The tavern had emptied in that time. All of his friends had gone to bed. He had been alone. Alone with the grasping remains of a once roaring fire.

Seemed a shame to abandon it now just because someone had said his name.

His name...

Even that hadn’t been his until he had made it so. Gustav had given it to him in the carnival...The carnival that felt like a lifetime ago.

Movement in front of him. Something apart from the fire that, if he’d had any mercy in him, he’d have put out of its misery some time ago. It distracted him, making him blink as though emerging into bright light from a lifetime in darkness.

 Caleb, failing to get an answer, had padded in front of him, Frumpkin trotting quietly at his heels like a small, furry ginger shadow. Apart from that he was alone. His other small, green, sticky-fingered shadow was nowhere to be seen.

Still, Molly didn’t look away from the fire. Caleb, following his gaze, frowned slightly, then asked softly, concern evident in his tone, “Are you cold?”

That tiny, distant part of his brain that was still somewhat connected to _him_ thought vaguely, _bless him_.

 The gaping, abyssal void he’d prayed never to know again just continued to stare at the ghost of the fire which seemed to have succumbed at last to the cold, dark oblivion Molly must have known once before, and would beg to take him back where he belonged. If he’d had any voice to beg.

Instead, he only stared.

A sudden flash of light illuminated the room and the grate burst into life once more. Flames danced merrily before him, uncaring of what had been before and a soft, welcome heat filled the room. It helped. Molly hadn’t realised it until Caleb’s fire had warmed him. He had been cold.

The fire roared happily and Molly gazed silently at it.

If only the wizard could bring him back as easily.

Someone, or something, once had. It had pulled him out of a grave 2 years ago. In the moment he wished it had left him there to sleep. At peace. Untroubled by the tragic monster it had instead created in him.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb repeated, quietly.

He came closer, but didn’t touch him. He was grateful for that. It seemed as though the lightest touch right now would burn him. Burn with a heat not even the Nine Hells could conceive of. Burn until he clawed the flesh from his bones just to let his blood flash to ice and soothe him. He couldn’t bear that right now. And he couldn’t bear Caleb to be the one to do it. He wasn’t sure... _Why_. But the instinct to protect Caleb from that was almost as strong as the desire to protect himself.

Gazing at Molly with the same intensity Molly still gazed at the fire with, Caleb said, sounding more worried, still, “Molly, can you hear me?”

Molly made himself nod.

It took a lot, as though his skull had been filled with lead and he was trying to drag it through a thick bog just to make it move. Any response from him at all seemed to cause Caleb to relax just slightly, however. Instead of staring fixedly at him, he inspected their surroundings.

After a long moment, he said, “How much have you had to drink?”

Molly considered the question. The answer, in his book, was set firmly between ‘far too much’ and ‘not nearly enough.’ His response to Caleb, however, was the vague semblance of a shrug.

The wizard’s question reminded him of the alcohol, however. He reached blindly for it. If death couldn’t be so good as to come and take him back, back to something that might feel like home in a way this damned, battered body barely ever had. The least the gods owed him, he figured, was a single night of dreamless, liquor-induced oblivion. Let him pretend for a little while, at least, until his watchful Moonweaver passed and gave him over to the care of the relentless, burning sun.

His fingers fumbled the smooth exterior of the glass for a moment before a hand far more agile and dextrous than his current, drunken, clumsy efforts, plucked it deftly from his reach.

“It will not help,” Caleb’s voice told him, with an aching gentleness that made Molly want to punch him for daring to be able to feel tenderness and pain, for being able to _feel_ anything at all, while he felt like he was back, back in that grave where they had left him for what seemed a century.

Alone. Forgotten. Empty.

Something in the wizard’s tone made him pause for just a moment. Then, the desire to snap at him, to lash out, to take whatever this was out on him, to hurt him, just to see if it hurt him, too, if it made him feel anything at all, reared again, like a hidden serpent.

If he’d had the words, if he’d had the _will_ , he’d have verbally eviscerated him. A part of him knew that he was only trying to help. The rest of him didn’t care. But as he had neither, so he slumped back in his seat instead.

Defeated. Somehow, judging by the look on Caleb’s face, this was worse.

Molly had gotten his wish after all. He’d hurt him. He still felt nothing.

Caleb stared at him for another long moment. Frumpkin did likewise. Molly ignored both of them.

Until, that was, Caleb got slowly to his feet beside him and said, voice low, and reassuring.

“I will be back in a moment,” he said, jerkily. He was fidgeting with that diamond again, the one he used in combat. Molly might have been amused, knowing what it was capable of, if _he_ had been capable of that feeling. “I’m going to fetch Yasha for you,” he continued, gently.

He swept past Molly, but before he could make it more than a foot, Molly’s hand closed around his thin wrist, claws biting in so deep the warm rush told him he’d drawn blood, but he didn’t tear his eyes from Caleb’s face.

Still unable to speak, he shook his head jerkily. Yasha had seen him in this state before.  While he was currently cursed to relive it, he had no desire for her to have to do the same.

“Alright,” Caleb said gently, clearly trying to defuse the desperate tension from the moment. “Alright,” he repeated, as though he was trying to soothe a terrified child after a nightmare.  

Cautiously, like a wild animal being taught trust for the first time, he released Caleb’s wrist.

Slowly, he made to return to the chair at Molly’s side. Then he stopped.

“Would you like me to stay?” he asked softly.

Molly froze, stuck by the question. He tried to wrestle some kind of sense from the knotted mess of his emotions, but before he’d even begun, he found himself nodding. Fears of vulnerability, thoughts of the awkward conversation the morning might bring, and the desire to always appear in control were swept away, like a thin paper shield in the face of a hurricane.

There was only one truth that consumed his existence in this moment: he did not want to be alone. It felt like the impulse to spare Caleb had, earlier impulsive, and instinctual, transcending any kind of logic, or reason, or even emotion.

He realised he was still nodding frantically. Only when Caleb laid a gentle hand on his forearm and said softly, “I will stay with you, Mollymauk. I promise. I will stay with you until you ask me to leave. I won’t leave you, otherwise.”

The words draped over him like a warm blanket, bringing with them an inexpressible sense of comfort. He nodded again, but calmly this time, gratefully, and Caleb nodded in return.

They remained in silence for a long time. How long Molly didn’t know. Minutes. Hours. It didn’t seem important. Throughout, Caleb kept his hand resting, almost absently, on Molly’s forearm. Molly did not pull away. At some point, he beckoned jerkily to Frumpkin with a small, summoning flick of his wrist.

The cat had been curled in front of the still dancing fire, eyes on Caleb. At this, and without any obvious further prompting from the wizard, he rose, stretched, then trotted silently to Molly and leapt lightly into his lap.

With a slightly dazed feeling, Molly stroked the cat’s soft fur as he kneaded his trousers with his sharp claws. As he did so, Frumpkin began to purr loudly. Molly blinked at him. _You better not be pitying me, you useless bag of fleas_ , he thought, irritably.

Another long beat of silence passed until Caleb quietly told his hands, “You know, I have some experience with this,” he motioned awkwardly towards Molly, “When the words just – Won’t come.”

Molly swallowed and nodded with difficulty, burying his hand deeply in Frumpkin’s thick, fluffy fur. “It has happened to you before, hasn’t it?” he said, quietly. Molly nodded stiffly again. “I am sorry,” Caleb said, softly.

And he was. Molly knew somehow, he truly was. Molly shrugged vaguely, one hand still gently stroking through Frumpkin’s soft fur.

“I can talk if you would like, or if you would rather-“ Molly nodded before he finished.

Caleb took a short breath, clasping his hands in his lap. “I am not as good a talker as you,” Caleb murmured. Molly’s lips twitched, as though, in another life, he might have smiled. “Today was quite intense for you,” Caleb said, softly, “I take it that is why-“

Molly jerkily shook his head before Caleb could finish. The last thing he wanted to hear about right now was _that_.

Caleb blinked at him, confused. “You would like me to stop talking?” he asked, slowly.

Molly shook his head frantically, desperation and hopeless, frustrated panic started to claw at his chest. He had been alone down here in the silence for hours and it hadn’t bloody killed him. But right now, the thought of being engulfed by silence in this moment felt like he was drowning, and Caleb’s voice was the last bit of desperate air in his lungs that he couldn’t lose.

Caleb stared at him, lost, then he hastily searched through his satchel, then shoved pen, ink, and parchment into Molly’s hands.

“You can write, can’t you?” he said, suddenly concerned.

Molly shot him a filthy look and scrawled ‘ _fuck you’_ in Infernal.

Caleb gave him a little half-smile as though well-aware of what had just been directed at him. Not having the patience for niceties he scrawled, in Common, _Talk. But about something else._ Then he thrust the paper towards him.

“Ah,” Caleb said, softly. He bit his lip, considering the scribbled command he was holding.

Finally, he said softly, “Have you ever been to the Zemni Fields?”

Molly shook his head.

Caleb smiled, a little sadly, “I could tell you about it?”

Molly motioned for the paper again and Caleb handed it over.

 _Home?_ He scrawled.

Caleb nodded.

Molly mirrored him.

Caleb gathered himself for a moment, closed his eyes, breathed, opened them again, then began to speak. “It is quite a poor area of the Empire. Life there can be very difficult. But it is peace, too, I think. And it is beautiful. The fields themselves are soft and gold, towering over the land. They are sometimes called pillars of gilded moonbeams. Or oceans of light that were gifted to mortals by Gods.”

Molly raised an eyebrow and scribbled down quickly. _How poetic of you_.

Caleb blushed and admitted, “It is actually from a song.”

Molly blinked and a memory drifted across his ravaged mind, with the clarify of an oasis in the desert.

_Sitting on a cliff’s edge, a velvety blanket embedded with thousands of sparkling diamonds spread across the dark sky above him. A soft sea breeze ruffled the hair on his head. It was starting to grow in again. The salt stung in his eyes, but he didn’t close them._

_Some buried instinct he shouldn’t have warns him of movement behind him. He turned to see a tiny figure creeping towards him, blonde hair billowing in a halo-like cloud around her young face._

_“Molly,” Toya said in her soft little voice, clearly wanting to come nearer but afraid of the sheer cliff-edge._

_He gave her a soft little smile, trying to look reassuring, though wondering how the fuck the face of a scarred, purple demon face could ever reassure a child._

_Yet, miraculously, Toya gave him a tiny smile in return and timidly moved a little closer. She set down in the grass beside him, crossing her legs, not on the edge, as he was, but still at his side._

_“Are you having another bad day, Molly?”_

_The name still felt a little strange. Wrong and right at the same time. Him and not him. He lived in a strange world._

_He nodded jerkily._

_“Would you like me to sing it again?” she asked, softly placing one of her small hands on his shoulder._

_He nodded again. She gave him a little smile that might have shattered his heart, if his chest hadn’t been so empty._

_She opened her mouth and the sweet, soothing music of her voice felt like a balm to his ravaged soul. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him like the soft sea breeze pressing its kisses to his fever-hot skin._

_The ghost of a smile dared to tug at his lips._

Molly glanced at Caleb then wrote, _Would you sing it for me?_

_  
_

Caleb flinched a little, “I do not have a very good voice, Mollymauk, I don’t think you want-“

Hand shaking, Molly scrawled a barely legible _please_ on the sheet of paper Caleb had given him. Caleb looked down at the word, then up at Molly.

He frowned, wringing his hands in his lap, then said slowly, “It is a work song, sung in the fields, and should really be sung in Zemnian to-“ Molly was already nodding. “Alright, alright...” Caleb closed his eyes, lips moving soundlessly for a moment.

Then he began to sing, soft and halting for the first few bars, but old memories and instincts soon smoothed out. His voice was not the best Molly had ever heard, but the melody was simple, made as a driving rhythm for poor field-hands, and he carried it well.

 Molly closed his eyes and breathed. Just breathed. As Caleb came to the second verse, a warmth built slowly in his chest, and he didn’t resist the gentle hum that vibrated from his throat, just as it had all those months ago with Toya.

Caleb stutterd for a moment, but managed to regain his flow. As they ended the song, more or less together. Molly felt a sense of peace it had seemed would never grace him again, settle over his chest, like a shroud.

As he glanced towards Caleb again, wanting to thank him, his eyes fell on the wizard’s wrist and the deep scarlet puncture marks he realised with a shock he had caused.

“Caleb.”

The wizard jumped at the sudden sound of his scratchy voice, the first word he’d spoken in hours.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb looked down to what he was gesturing at.

The cuts his claws had left in the human’s wrist had scabbed over by now, but they were red and raw. Thin rivers of red still ran from them, the tracks of dried blood evidence of the damage he’d done.

“Oh,” Caleb said, sounding surprised and blinking down at the marks as though he’d only just noticed them. “It is nothing,” he said, dismissively, waving his hand. “They are only scratches, they will be gone by morning, I’m sure.”

“I shouldn’t have-“ Molly began hoarsely, but Caleb cut him off.

“It’s nothing.”

Molly swallowed with difficulty, his throat feeling raw and dry, like sandpaper left in a desert. He licked his lips nervously. “Maybe we should still clean them, though-“

“Molly,” Caleb interrupted, tone almost stern, “I appreciate your fussing, but I assure you, I have had worse injuries from Frumpkin.”

Frumpkin, who was still curled contently in Molly’s lap, made a small noise of what seemed to be affirmation.

He couldn’t quite believe he was being ganged up on by a scrawny string bean of a wizard, and a cat. Or, more to the point, that it was working.

But it had been a very long, very exhausting day, so he let it. After a long pause, in which Molly scratched the bullying bag of fleas behind the ear, Caleb said tentatively, “Would you like to talk?”

Molly let out a bitter, humourless laugh. “There’s nothing to say,” he replied, irritated that the words had sounded more unconcerned in his head than they did out loud. “I just... _Broke_ and-“

“No,” Caleb said very quietly.

“Excuse me?” Molly said, incredulously.

“No,” the wizard repeated, more quietly still, “You are not broken, Mollymauk. You will know if you are. It is not so easy to come back from.”

Molly frowned slightly, “What are you?” he demanded irritably, lounging back in his chair and staring over at the wizard, “An expert on broken people?”

“Yes,” Caleb replied simply.

Molly opened his mouth to say something but then shut it. The word had been a little too heavy, and the eyes behind it a little too haunted to allow him to spill the sharp words that had been on his tongue.

Instead, he diverted himself by soothing Frumpkin who had sat up, apparently sensing Caleb’s momentary distress.

“Well,” Molly said, finally, covering the pregnant silence left in the wake of that last word, “That makes two of us.”

Caleb looked up at him and he said softly, “I know what it feels like to be broken. And I know that it doesn’t feel like anger, or grief, or pain, or rage. It just feels like, like...”

“Nothing,” Caleb supplied in a hoarse whisper.

Molly nodded, his hands trembling slightly. He hastily stroked Frumpkin again, trying to hide it. Then decided that ‘fuck it’, Caleb had already seen enough to damn him, and he reached for the glass on the table in front of him.

This time, Caleb didn’t stop him. He drained it in a single swig, and refilled it again from the bottle, which he passed to Caleb. The wizard peered into it, sniffed it gingerly, winced, then sighed, apparently resigned, and swallowed a generous gulp himself.

Staring down into the deep amber liquid he had poured out, Molly swirled it in the glass, making a tiny whirlpool form in the middle, which he stared down into.

He found himself whispering softly, “I don’t want to be that way again, Caleb. I can’t, I _can’t_.”

He shook so violently again that the glass slipped from his hand and smashed on the floor, making both of them jump. Molly cursed viciously and bent to pick it up, forgetting for a moment that Frumpkin was curled in his lap, squashing him a little. A mumbled meow of protest brought him back to his senses.

“Wait,” Caleb said, catching Molly’s arm and halting him, “I will summon Schmidt to take care of it, so you don’t cut yourself.”

“I’d have earned it,” Molly muttered darkly, glancing down at Caleb’s wrist again, but he swallowed down his drink again.

He watched in silence as Caleb completed his ritual then, as the wizard relaxed and sat back, the glass began gathering itself up and shuffling towards the bar. Molly stared after it, “Quite something, that,” he muttered into his glass.   

“I cannot imagine,” Caleb said, quietly, “Coming into the world as you did.”

“Oh,” Molly said, waving an airy hand, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact his hand shook as he did so, “Everyone came into the world the way I did, Caleb. Clawing their way out of darkness with no memory, in a haze of blood and confusion.”  

Caleb smiled thinly, “A fine thought,” he said, quietly, “But not quite the same. I did not come into the world with-“ his eyes found some of Molly’s many scars and as soon as they did, he stopped what he was saying, reaching for the bottle and taking another sip to cover the awkward moment.

Molly smirked and rolled up a sleeve, displaying more of the thin silver bands, “Look all you like,” he shrugged, “They’re not going anywhere, and I’m not ashamed of them.”

Caleb flushed slightly, “I did not mean to imply that I thought you should be. I only meant that they...Hint at something. Something that came before. And-“ He paused, frowning slightly, struggling to express what he wanted to.

 “I believe,” he said, finally, “That there is a difference between nothing and between emptiness.” Molly stiffened slightly in his seat, but only took another drink, and made no move to silence the wizard, who continued. “

We know nothing when we are born, we are blank, and quickly filled by the things the world around us has to offer. When we are empty...”

A muscle went in his jaw and he sipped at the bottle again, but went on, “When we are empty, we know there should be something there, we know we should be more, we know we should be... _Something_. That is...That is very different to simply being born with nothing.”

Caleb took another drink of the alcohol, which was not good, but did its job well, “I cannot imagine coming into the world as you did. I cannot imagine how I would have survived that.” He paused, considering the matter for a moment, then said, more softly still, “I would like to believe that I would. But I would be lying if I said I was sure.”

A thousand quick, witty remarks leapt to the tip of Molly’s tongue as a response to that. Instead he found himself swallowing hard past the tightening lump in his throat, shaking worse than ever and trying to find some semblance of composure.

 _Empty_.

The word whispered through his mind again, like the spectre of the nightmare he had dragged himself from once, and knew he never could again, and it wrecked any chance he might have had at stopping the words that now tumbled from him.

“I couldn’t do it again,” he choked out, abruptly.

His eyes had wandered back to the fire the wizard had conjured. It had burned low, with the time they had sat talking, and the time before that Caleb had sat with him, but the flames still dance, casting their shadows onto the ash-stained brick wall behind it.

There was something hypnotising about them, and they coaxed the words from him almost against his will, “If it happens again,” he whispered, “If it ever happens to me again, if I ever lose myself again, I want you to kill me, Caleb. Kill me, rather than let me live like that again.”

The words had snapped out of him without conscious thought, and without permission, and a part of them wanted to take them back, to hoard them within himself again. But another part of him was relieved at finally having this great, dark secret prised from him again, and given to another that might be able to do something to relieve it in a way he never could.

Caleb started, spilling some of the drink Molly had given him, but Molly shook his head and gripped his arm, looking at him now, seized by this, “Promise me that. Promise me, Caleb. I can’t do that again.” He was shaking again as he looked at the wizard’s pale grey-blue eyes, slightly avoiding his, but present all the same. “You know,” he breathed softly, “You understand.”

“I do,” Caleb admitted, the words grudging. “Molly,” he said, softly, “I do not think it will be necessary.” He gently squeezed his wrist, “We will not let you get lost again, you know. We are not like whoever you were with before, who would just, just leave you in the ground like that and walk away.” He frowned slightly, “Well,” he amended, “Perhaps some of the others may be, but I would not be able to. And so you have the Mighty Nein with you now. And you have Yasha. She would certainly not let us leave you. We will keep you safe, and we will not let you get lost again, I promise.”

“ _Caleb_ ,” Molly bit out, sharply.

“But,” he continued, as Molly’s tail began to lash back and forth in his agitation, “If it truly comes to it...I would do whatever you felt needed to be done.”

A grim smile tugged at Molly’s lips, baring his fangs. “I’d do the same for you, you know,” he said, casually, as though they were discussing sensible battle plans for a quick skirmish, “If there was anything that would tip you over the edge.”

Caleb stilled and sobered before he said, softly, “You will know if such a situation presents itself, I think.”

“Noted,” Molly replied, with another dark smile.

“Will you be alright?” Caleb asked quietly after a long, tense pause, peering owlishly over the glass he had scavenged from the table and had poured the alcohol into with a prim sense of unnecessary dignity.

Molly realised, with pleasure, that he was able to find a lazy smile to answer the wizard with, “Aren’t I always?” he said easily, cocking his head to one side, letting his smile broaden and, just for the heck of it, fluttering his eyelashes a little.

Caleb gave him an ironic smile in turn and said, “Ja, as I always am.”

Molly met his eyes for a moment and gave him a thin smirk. Then, without warning, he scooped Frumpkin up and he jumped to his feet, clapped his hands together, which made Caleb jump again, and announced in a business-like tone, “We should sleep.” He could tell Caleb was still processing this as he went on, “We have to descend into undead oblivion for The Gentleman tomorrow, we need our beauty rest.”

Molly deposited Frumpkin in the chair he had just left and the cat gave him a distinctly displeased look at the rough handling. Molly blew him a kiss.

“Are you sure?” Caleb said, looking surprised, and a little as though he’d just gotten whiplash from the speed of the interaction. “You are ready to just...Go back to bed and move on from all of this?” He gestured around them expansively. “You were...Not in a good place when I came down, Mollymauk.”

“I’m in a _much_ better place now you’re in it,” Molly smirked, anticipating the overtly flirtatious tone to discomfort the wizard enough to make him drop the questions.

In truth, he had no idea if he would be alright. For all he knew, he would return to the darkness and silence of his room and break all over again. But he had already let Caleb get in too far, and see too many of his weak spots. He was no longer that shattered, desperate soul reaching out for any anchor point it could in the storm of annihilation that had built up and cast him back into the empty abyss he had stumbled into once more when he’d clawed himself from that shallow grave.

He was still teetering on the edge of it, to be fair, but he didn’t need Caleb, and he couldn’t summon the strength to allow himself to want him.

What he needed right now was the control firmly in his own hands again, without any strings connected to other people.

Caleb studied him for a long moment, apparently searching for any twitches or tells in his face. Then he said with characteristic bluntness, “And if I leave that place again? You’ll still be fine?”

“I’m fairly sure I won’t _die_ without you, Caleb,” Molly grinned, clapping him on the shoulder, making him jolt slightly. “But I’m glad to see your self-confidence is improving in leaps and bounds.”

Caleb flushed slightly. “That is not what I was implying at all, Mollymauk,” he began, primly.

Molly cackled. “Oh, I know,” he said, winking. “C’mon, let’s get to bed. It’s been a damned long day.”

Caleb grunted, unable to disagree with that, and at last acquiesced.

Before they left the bar, Molly tossed the paper Caleb had given him to write on into the fire and watched it burn away to ashes as he climbed the stairs of the Leaky Tap.

Outside their respective rooms, Caleb took a breath, as though steeling himself, then said firmly, “Frumpkin will stay with you tonight.”

The cat meowed softly in assent, winding around Molly’s ankles. Apparently the thing was quite taken with him, for reasons Molly suspected had a lot more to do with the heat he naturally gave off as a tiefling, and a lot less to do with his sparkling personality. Damn thing just wanted to use him.

“I don’t think Fjord would appreciate that,” Molly shot back, grinning, even though he found himself rather tempted by the offer, as well as touched by it, given how fond of the cat the wizard was. Caleb’s face fell, clearly not having considered this, and Molly added, “But thank you for the offer. It was a very kind thought, I appreciate it.”

“You are welcome,” Caleb mumbled. Then, “Well,” he said, clasping his hands together and swinging them back and forth a little, “I suppose we should say goodnight, then.”

He turned to unlock the door to his room, but Molly said, “Caleb,” and he shuffled back to face him once again.

Standing on his toes and resisting the urge to yank on Caleb’s jacket to bring him closer to him, Molly leaned in and kissed his forehead.

Then he said, with all the sincerity he could muster, which was, as always, a relatively surprising amount, “Thank you.”

Caleb nodded, then, “Ja. That makes us even, now.”

“Even?” Molly repeated, head cocked, an eyebrow raised as he frowned at him.

“From the mines,” Caleb replied, as though this should have been obvious, “When you told me that there would be time for that later. You helped me get out when I-“ he waved a hand, frowning as though he didn’t like to remember what had happened.

Molly stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed.

“Your mind works in strange and mysterious ways, Caleb Widogast,” he informed him, lightly, shaking his head.

“So I have been told,” the wizard replied, tone utterly serious. But there was a slight twinkle in his eye that made Molly wonder if the miraculous could have happened, and he might have actually told two jokes in a single day.

Molly smiled again.

“For the record,” he said, lazily, lightly jostling Caleb’s shoulder with his own, bracing a hand against the wall and leaning up again to whisper into his ear, “You didn’t owe me anything for what happened down in the mines.” He shrugged and added evenly as he drew back, “I just did what anyone would have done.”

“Except, ‘anyone’ did not do it,” Caleb replied, pedantically. “Only you.”

“I suppose that’s true enough,” Molly said, after considering it for a moment and not being able to come up with any kind of counter-argument to the wizard’s unnecessary but nevertheless impenetrable logic.

“You still didn’t owe me anything in my book, though. But,” he added, grinning lazily again, “If you want _me_ to owe _you_ for this, then consider it noted.”

“I mean,” Caleb said, “According to you, I only did what anyone would do.”

Molly smiled, “But it wasn’t anyone. Only you.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Caleb shot back with a shrug.

Molly grinned again, “Bad dreams?” The wizard shivered slightly but didn’t answer and Molly, feeling that he might be pushing things too far, said quickly, “But fair enough, if that’s the way you want this to work, that can easily be arranged.”

“No!” Caleb said, a little too quickly, “No I, I was teasing you, Molly, I do not actually want you to ‘owe’ me anything for this. I do not want this group to work that way.”

Molly grinned, “Good boy,” he said, giving Caleb a friendly pat on the cheek, “I don’t want it to work that way, either. World would be a much better place if everyone thought that way.”

“You are not wrong,” Caleb murmured.

His gaze grew distant for a moment before he abruptly pulled himself back together, blinking rather rapidly. He turned quickly to his room, unlocked it, and, just before he disappeared inside, he said, “Goodnight, Mollymauk.”

Molly waited until he heard the door click shut then said, too softly for Caleb to hear, “Night, Caleb.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is like: '101 things Luca is unsure about but likes so is adding in here anyway!' so, you know, feedback would be Great. But also just in general feedback shall fuel more future fic, especially now my uni semester is FINALLY coming to a close and i have actual time again to write. BUT YES, the moral of the story is: if you have a spare moment, please drop me a comment, I read them all, and I really do appreciate them very, very much <3


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